


God, I never thought I'd lose you (not like this)

by kimsamuel



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 21:53:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9680555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimsamuel/pseuds/kimsamuel
Summary: Tsukishima didn't think it'd end like this.He thought it would last forever.





	

**Author's Note:**

> gin and i wrote this impulsively im so sorry  
> or am i

And in sickness & health  
We are bound by our souls  
As I pull you closer  
Nothing else matters at all  
-Acres, In Sickness & Health.

~

Yamaguchi Tadashi is no longer the source of brightness and warmth that surrounds the Karasuno volleyball gymnasium. 

Hands clasped together in a pathetical attempt to hold onto something that somehow pins him to the cruel sight before him, trying to let his shattered heart meander through memories to let threads of silk connect him to reality.

Tsukishima doesn’t sleep anymore. He can’t, doesn’t succumb to the exhaustion because being restless and heavy with pain is a distraction from the generalized horror that numbs his body as he tries to make it through the day.

Tsukishima is annoyed. Right now the sound that the machine providing his (boyfriend, his best friend, his we-were-so-much-more) Tadashi with a decent intake of oxygen that is only considered normal in situations like these- when he is no longer in a state of consciousness and can respond to Tsukishima’s daily ramble about his now empty, cruel life, is tiring, stabbing deep into Tsukishima’s psyche. 

He is not sure how long he can keep this up.

Yamaguchi looks ethereal. There is a strange beauty surrounding the peaceful expression on his angelic features, calming and pure and delicate- like Tadashi himself. But the dotting on his face does not remind Tsukishima of the nights spent stargazing in the roof of his house, with skin chilled by the icy cold weather and small pecks on the reddened noses. They are now similar to black holes, absorbing everything –including the light he normally emanated. Leaving nothing but a prone, sick little blond guy sitting in a way too quiet hospital room, eyes turned bloody with pain as he watches his best friend abandon him.

~

It was only a month ago when Yamaguchi had begun to notice little snippets of his routine starting to revolve around his physical state. He would get up in the morning, and as soon as feet touched ground, his head would begin to spin as if he were on shaking ground, pain would shoot down his spine and root along every bone in his body, and he’d sit down, take a few deep breaths, prevent tears from falling. Because fuck, Yamaguchi had started to hurt long before he knew what was happening. 

And the worst part is that it became normal for him to feel so terrible.

But it was fine, because he’d meet up with Tsukishima and Yachi on the way to school, and they’d walk beside each other and talk as if nothing happened. Or, Yachi would do most of the talk, because it’s not like Tsukishima talks much to anybody that isn’t Yamaguchi, and the latter was way too busy trying to mask the unnerving feeling of walking on a cloud.

Yamaguchi’s head was on fire. And soaked in water. All at once.

“You seem a little distracted, Yamaguchi-kun.”

He snaps out of his thoughts, mouthing a light “huh” and directing his surprised gaze between both blondes. 

“Is everything okay?” She tries again.

“Yes, I’ve been feeling a little… Drowsy lately.”

“I see… You should get checked if it doesn’t go away.”

He simply nods, eyes blurring with tears he tries hard to bite back, and suddenly it’s a little harder to get air into his lungs, it’s too dense, it’s foamy with pressure and it hurts when it enters his system.

Tsukishima doesn’t miss the pain-stricken look on his face, yet he pretends he does. Or at least, he does for a few days.

And it is then, at practice, when Tsukishima notices that Yamaguchi has been sweating more than usual, his cheeks are now home to a pinkish shade that in any other circumstance, would have been considered the most adorable thing to see. He complains about being feeling too hot, and Tsukishima wishes he meant he was just excited, like Tanaka does.

“You have a fever.” Tsukishima blurts out, back of his fingers pressed lightly against the boy’s sweaty forehead.

Dark eyes meet his gold ones in an instant, and Yamaguchi becomes ice, stiff and unsure how to react, lips hanging open, anticipating an excuse that never quite comes out. Tsukishima frowns. “…I-I’ve had it for a while now.”

“I know.”

“We noticed too, Yamaguchi.” Sugawara says, cautiously stepping closer to the boy with a small but visible frown and a trembling hand that he lays on his shoulder so carefully, as if he were afraid of hurting Yamaguchi. His voice is one of rain and cotton that digs deep into him and makes him realize that maybe he should…

“I’m okay.” He cuts off. “I’m going to be better in a few days.”

And Tsukishima’s hand drops. “I’ll walk you home.” He deadpans, and the rest of the team is scanning the younger male for any permanent scarring because the scowl on Tsukishima’s face is piercing and as damaging as a knife.

They change into dry clothes, and as Yamaguchi walks out of the room, he earns various pats on the back and a few encouraging compliments that just boost his confidence a one percent and he thinks that maybe he could dare to go to the hospital. 

~

A morning without sun, Yamaguchi realizes when he steps out of the doorway and hears the crunch of snow beneath his feet. Bone-chilling wind whips past his head, and he learns that he is the only one insane enough to go out in the middle of a snowstorm.

He ignores the reminiscent feeling of his head being drenched in inverse fire, dense and cold, and wrong, pressing two fingers to his temple as he continues to walk under a completely covered sky. It wasn’t uncommon to have gray days, but he particularly felt that the darkening shade was reaching him from somewhere else and not the winter weather.

He sighs, knowing that he’s only a block or two away from school, and Tsukishima should show up soon. The gloom of the day is, however, somehow comforting to him, soft and deep and uncertain, like death, Yamaguchi finds himself thinking,

“Hey.” A familiar, quite nonchalant murmur creeps up his back as Tsukishima appears, hand lowering his white headphones down to his neck. He watches as the other male simply walks by his side, never even asking how he’s doing. Yamaguchi is glad, a part of him can’t bring itself to face the facts that, to him, are all settled on the table, ready to be seen and acknowledged. But Yamaguchi was not ready.

He had spent the entirety of the previous night searching the internet for an answer to the few symptoms he’d been showing; everlasting fever and hardcore headaches, being extremely sensitive to bright light, and strange aversion to food. He’d come upon many and very different answers on several medical websites that promised a solution to his despair.

But Yamaguchi can’t focus on that now, he has an upcoming match with Nekoma, the dearly missed Battle At the Garbage Dump, and that is all he can set his mind on, a goal he’d been wanting to accomplish since the beginning of the year, was to become a regular in the team, prove his worth by making the ball go wherever he wants, help his team win, make Tsukishima proud.

He didn’t find anything that would give him the idea of a solid diagnosis, and stubborn as he is, he didn’t have the guts to go to the hospital just yet.

Feeling this way- so drained and sick and wrong, wasn’t normal. And the honest part of him knew that whatever was going on was really fucking bad. It was an instinct. Something you can’t shake off because it clings to you with the truth you so hard try to ignore.

Yamaguchi doesn’t know what has come over him when he stops Tsukishima from walking with a stern hand in front of him, and launches into the boy’s chest, hands gripping the fabric of his uniform, holding onto him, with what’s left of himself.

Tsukishima’s stiff at first, taken aback by the gesture, but he soon snakes his arms around the smaller body. 

“I’m scared.”

“Why?”

It takes him a second to respond. “I’m not okay, Tsukki.”

And the blond doesn’t respond, because his teeth graze his bottom lip as he searches for the right words to say because he knows, he knows that there is something very wrong with his boyfriend, something that can’t be fixed. Because he sees the look of acceptance in Yamaguchi’s eyes, he understands, and no matter what the thing is, he just knows it’s worse than he’ll ever expect.

He strokes small circles on Yamaguchi’s back, feeling him slowly begin to relax in his warm embrace, head resting on Tsukishima’s bony collarbone, it wasn’t comfortable, and the hard surface just made his head pound, but the pair of strong arms, always promising to shield him from harm made him feel a little more secure, and being in pain didn’t matter anymore. 

Yamaguchi wonders what happens when the harm is coming from within himself.

Class goes by smoothy, making four periods of J.Lit, English and Biology seem easy when the time for practice comes.

He’s feeling particularly heavy at the moment, but he ignores it, and when he enters the gym and Daichi calls for a warm up, he can only bite his tongue to stop himself from bursting to tears.

The sound of shoes scraping against the wooden floor seemed a lot louder than usual, and Hinata and Kageyama’s usual bickering resulted in him having to move far away from the duo to avoid the pain.

“Alright guys, I want us to practice some serves.” Of fucking course. “Get in line.”

Yamaguchi watched in fear as his teammates formed in the usual formation, and he saw his spot being empty. They waited for him.

Eleven figures standing proudly, looking back at him with faces he’s come to know very well over the past year, some with eyes soft with practiced affection, and others, like Tsukishima, with eyes hard and flat, mirroring the same terror in Yamaguchi’s own eyes. Familiar and welcoming and so fond of him.

He walks towards them, slowly, trying to keep his steps short to avoid the kneading at the back of his neck. 

He gets in line, and awaits his turn. Kageyama goes first, acing a perfect jump float serve. He knows that Kageyama has worked hard to accomplish it so flawlessly, but he also knows that Kageyama is a gifted kid, and that no matter how hard he works, he will never be as good as the King himself. 

Minutes pass, and after watching them give out a 110% for a simple serve, he discovers he can’t so much move his right arm as he normally does, and he flinches at the sound of the whistle. 

A jump float serve is what he attempts, but comes out as a normal serve, hand slapping against the ball so fiercely it smashes against the ground. Ukai is watching him, and he blows the whistle again, and it’s Ennoshita’s turn. He’s accomplished a serve almost as good as Kageyama, but he still needs to practice. 

In a matter of a few seconds, it’s Yamaguchi’s turn again, and, as if something were holding him back, he fails his serve.

“You’re too stiff, Yamaguchi. Relax your muscles, go stretch.”

He’s caught off guard. A nod is all he can muster. “Yes.”

“Tsukishima, give him a hand.”

The rest of the team glances at his direction for seconds before turning back to work, and Tsukishima’s footsteps are heard as a reminder that something is wrong.

“You okay?” He asks as Yamaguchi sits on the floor, back straight and legs spread wide.

“I’m fine.”

“We’ve known each other for years, Yamaguchi. Don’t give me that crap.” It comes out harsher than he intended, and Yamaguchi bows slightly at the sight of the other towering above him. 

Tsukishima has always shown a protective side of him when it comes to Yamaguchi, keeping the boy under a strong wing and a careful eye.

“You need to tell me what’s going on.”

“I don’t even know what’s going on.”

“Well, then we’re gonna have to find out because whatever it is, it’s fucking you up. We both know that this isn’t just some sort of cold you caught, and I can’t stay here and watch it consume you!”

Yamaguchi’s mouth hangs open, eyes crystalised.

“Tsukishima is right, Yamaguchi.” Sugawara’s voice is heard as he approaches them, concern lacing every syllable. “It’s been like a week since you started feeling like this, right? You’re not showing any signs of getting better.” He is soft, and manages to calm him down.

Yamaguchi wonders how was he able to overhear Tsukishima’s angry words. And then Hinata is there too, asking him why he hasn’t gone to see a doctor, and Daichi tells him they need him for the match, and it’s all too much, too bright, too loud, too fast and too overbearing and he also can see Ukai, eyes going wide and face white as a sheet when Yamaguchi’s eyes fall shut and all he sees is black.

~

He is laying on a hospital bed when he awakens, he doesn't have enough strength to sit up, so he stays, laying limply as he watches snow fall through the window, eyes fluttered to half mast and breath coming out slow. 

“Looks like you’re finally awake.”

“Hello, Yamaguchi-kun. I’m Takahiro, I will be your doctor.”

“I understand that you’re not interested in small talk, but I would appreciate it if you at least listened to your diagnosis.”

Yamaguchi’s ears perk up at the mention of a possible solution to his recent despair. He only turns his head the slightest bit to show he’s listening. Had it been in any other circumstance, he’d be embarrassed for his lack of manners. 

But he’s not. He hears the doctor sigh, and the shuffling of paper sheets, throat clearing, the doctor starts, “A few friends of yours agreed to provide us with useful information, and it is thanks to them that we’ve come up with this.”

“Would you just say it?”

“...Uh, yes. I’m very sorry to inform you that you’re currently fighting a bacterial meningitis.”

Ha, I should’ve known, he thinks, I should’ve been ready. 

“Thank you.”

“Don’t worry though, you’re free to go home and come back in a few days for some exams.”

“Alright.”

And then he’s gone. And Yamaguchi finds himself spacing out, being victim of unpure thoughts such as the best way to farewell his parents.

He thinks of Tsukishima.

~

Days pass and Yamaguchi hasn’t told anyone but his parents about his diagnosis. The doctors had promised to help him, find the proper way to get him out of this in one piece.

But he had little to no faith in something as unfathomable as science, Tsukishima and Hinata would scold him for thinking such a stupidity, but he is a big believer in destiny, and if the otherworldly deities decided to take him out before time, there’s a reason for it.

Later, he becomes okay with the idea of him simply being a passenger. Visiting his friends and close relatives while he’s not feeling as terrible. It’s not just the headaches anymore- vomiting and not being able to wake up completely has added an imaginary weight onto the poor boy’s shoulders.

The mental pressure is also overwhelming.

“So… The match is next week.” He says, 

Tsukishima pulls him closer to his side, slipping a leg between Yamaguchi’s heavy ones. 

“Yeah.”

“It’s gonna be amazing, Tsukki,” 

“I know, I wish you were there to play with us, though.”

Tadashi falls silent, the fingers that were gingerly stroking the blond locks now freezing in spot. “Me too.”

“Maybe, if you start to feel a little better… Maybe you- you can play.”

“I can’t, baby. I can’t play anymore.”

“But we can still try.”

“Do you not hear me?” He doesn’t want to shout, but all the bile he’s been collecting lately is finally boiling up with anger and bubbling up to his throat. “Do you think I want to stay here?”

Tsukishima is stunned- Yamaguchi has only raised his voice at him once.

“I’m here because I’m dying! Because there is some pretty fucked up shit going inside me right now, and there is nothing I can do about it!”

“I want to be able to take you on long walks and hold your hand, I want to be able to laugh without having my head pound at the sound, I want to sleep well, I want to feel myself again! But that’s not going to happen!”

“Yam-”

“It will never be like that again. No matter how hard I pray, my arms will not respond, I won’t be a regular, I won’t play anymore matches-”

He doesn’t notice the silent water threads running down the sides of his face until they pool in that little space between his collarbones, and fall down his chest.

“I’m sorry” Voice uncharacteristically gentle, Tsukishima inches closer, pressing their foreheads together.

“I want to play.”

“I know, baby boy.”

“I want to be okay.”

“Hey, listen.” Black meets gold. “You’re going to be okay. I have you, you’re okay if you’re with me.

“You’re going to hold onto me, and I’m never going to let anything happen to you.”

The sobs that wreck Yamaguchi’s body go straight to between Tsukishima’s lungs, stabbing him over and over and over because Yamaguchi is not going to stop crying until he feels better or falls asleep. 

Maybe the mere thought of being separated from Yamaguchi was heartbreaking enough to make Tsukishima want to scream, with a throat clenched around nervousness and bittersweet memories that gnaw at his skin and tear it open, releasing energy as an earthquake that divides the earth crust.

It is not energy what leaves Tsukishima behind, it’s his own life, his vitality and his soul, leaving nothing but a body, a casket, a vase that falls and breaks and frees the souls of the dead and trapped.

It is saying goodbye that damages him. He has to tighten his grip on Yamaguchi, feel skin on skin, heart to heart, Yamaguchi’s collapsing against him, crying and cursing and trembling like he’s never ever done before.

“Baby, please-”

It’s like digging a hand down his throat and ripping off his heart, with all the wires and the blood and the pain and the salt of his warm tears emerging from bloodshot eyes.

Yamaguchi’s hands move around, trying to grasp harder, to sink deeper, to become one with Tsukishima.

“I love you, I love you so much- please… Please baby just listen to me.” His voice is beginning to crack, and knowing that he can’t cry in front of Yamaguchi, he takes a deep breath, pursing his lips together.

“You’re so precious. Nothing bad could ever happen to a such pretty thing like you. You’re going to be okay, and we’re going to be so happy, so happy.”

The thing is, Yamaguchi Tadashi always made everyone happy, searching deep within himself to find anything that would make others take their eyes away from human misery and enjoy themselves, he managed to make things work, but things weren’t as reciprocal for him.

He hardly got any support from people, aside from Tsukishima and the constant positivity from Sugawara. His team was there, too, but each player was deep into their own sea of trouble, and never quite got to get close enough to him to provide him with the same happiness he was always so willing to spread.

“I love you.” Yamaguchi’s voice reaches Tsukishima’s ear from the shoulder that it is smothered by.

And Tsukishima nods frenetically, squeezing him, squeezing and hoping that the tightness of their hug would be enough to keep Yamaguchi stuck to his side.

It wasn’t.

Two days after, Yamaguchi got out of bed, didn’t say goodbye as he left to catch Tsukishima on their way to school.

He kissed him when he saw him, walked a little closer to him than before, even let their fingers graze each other without curious eyes noticing.

Later, he meets his friends, Hinata and Kageyama aren’t annoying, shoes against floor aren’t whistling into his skull, cold doesn’t chill his skin.

He then walks out of the gym, ready to go home and prepare for another day, another opportunity.

With the difference that the road home is covered in ice, and luck is not on his side.

~

Trauma-induced, Yamaguchi is admitted to the hospital in order to protect his now damaged head. 

Even though he has been in this position many times before; watching the slightly shorter boy lie on the hospital bed, his face pale and not as bright as it should be, tubes and needles connected to his arms. It still hurt as much as the first time.

These last weeks have been hell for Tsukishima. He can’t handle not having Yamaguchi by his side. The only person that had stuck by his side for all those years, helping him get through his rough times. Yamaguchi is other half and he isn’t afraid to admit it.

Is this how it was gonna end?

No, it’s not.

Yamaguchi is strong. He is going to get better. Pull through, fight, defend himself. He is going to raise back to his feet and continue, progress, and he is going to be able to look back and say I made it. Because he understands that he is running, hell, he’s doing gymnastics, on a thin robe, and that it is a matter of time until the ashes of a once happy Yamaguchi begin to vanish in time. He is going to stand with Tsukishima and the rest of Karasuno on the court again. And he’s going to be proud of it.

But was he?

Tsukishima didn’t notice that tears were falling from his eyes and onto the hospital bed the sick boy laid on.

“Hey, don’t cry. It’s gonna be okay. It’ll all be okay.” Yamaguchi says, weakly raising a hand and placing it on Tsukishima’s cheek, using his thumb to wipe away the tears. 

“How can you be so sure? You said it yourself, you’re dying. I don’t want you to die, Yamaguchi. I don’t want you to leave me.”

Yamaguchi opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again. 

“Don’t think about the future, Tsukki. Let’s think about the past, about all the good memories we’ve had together.” Yamaguchi starts, “Tell me about your favourite memory of us. Any memory, let the good times roll.”

Tsukishima doesn’t even have to think. He knows exactly what his favourite memory is.

“When we stood on the court together for the first time. You had only been at the club for a few months, but it still felt like you’d been there forever. You brought so much positivity and happiness to the club, you always did your best and motivated others to do their best. We ended up winning the match, which was a big plus, but it wasn’t the only thing I wanted. Standing on- Yamaguchi?.... Hey…” Tsukishima suddenly stops his story, quickly standing up as he sees his other half close his eyes. He’s about to walk out of room, heart hitting against his ribcage, cold sweat running down the back of his neck when he feels Yamaguchi’s hand grab his and give him a small, reassuring squeeze. He sighs, relieved,

“No, it’s okay. I’m just tired, please continue.” The sick boy mumbled, his voice weaker than it was before. 

“Are you sure?” He tensely asked.

“Yes, Tsukki, I’m sure. Please, continue.”

Yamaguchi knows that him saying his nickname for Tsukishima makes his heart melt, that’s how he always got his way when the two had a disagreement. 

Tsukishima stares at Yamaguchi for a moment, then sighs as he sits back down on the chair he has been sitting on for the past few hours.

“Where was I? Right. Standing on the court with you; it made me forget all about the score and wanting to win, I only wanted to do my best and make good memories with you. That’s when I realized that I want to stand on the court with you again and again, until fate would lead us down different paths. But even then, I’d still want to be around you, I’d still want to have you in my life. You are my safe place, Yamaguchi Tadashi, and there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do to be able to stand on the court with you one more time.”

Tsukishima finishes his slight speech, using his hand that wasn’t holding Yamaguchi’s to wipe away the tears that had fallen from his eyes and rested on his cheeks.

That’s when he hears it.

The non-ending beeping sound.

His eyes turn towards the heart monitor connected to Yamaguchi and feels his entire world collapse.

It was flat.

Yamaguchi was gone.

Forever.

He’s never going to hear his laugh again, he’s never going to see that smile again. He’s never gonna hear him say “Tsukki” in his calm voice again. He’s never gonna hear the boy’s soft, regular breaths as he sleeps again.

But most importantly, he’s never going to see his eyes light up when he goes on the court again.

And it was all his fault.


End file.
